Some days are better than others
by Cmdr. Phantom
Summary: S/J. Taken directly after Divide and Conquer. Because it is the episode that launched a thousand fanfics.


Some days are better than others

A/N – It's been twelve years between fics. Please go easy. This is set directly after the events of Divide and Conquer

OoOoOoOoOoOo

Sam sat still, eyes closed, trying to focus on nothing except her breathing. In. Out. Ignoring the stench of blood that assaulted her every time she breathed. Trying to ignore the sticky substance on her hands, the way she could hear the rhythmic dripping on to the floor.

In. Out.

The nausea was harder to ignore, starting at her stomach and threatening to drown her. She swallowed hard, forced it down, and felt it settle uncomfortably in her throat, making her feel heavy and sick.

Today had not gone very well.

She didn't want to open her eyes, but the compulsion was overwhelming. Maybe this time, if she opened her eyes, the body wouldn't be there. Maybe this time, it will have been a horrible dream.

She cracked an eyelid, barely a sliver. The bright fluorescent of the morgue in the SGC stung her eye, but it adjusted quickly. And she should have known better, because the scent of blood was still sharp in her nostrils, and her hands – clutched tightly together – were still sticky and wet, and the drip, drip, drip of the blood was roaring in her ears.

And Martouf was still laying before her, face pale in death, chest still, eyes closed.

Sam's grief was not entirely her own. Jolinar's memories were overwhelming her, buffeting her with sorrow, rage, the feeling of complete and utter futility of everything. And yet she knew she grieved Martouf in her own right. He was...well..._something_ to her, even if she'd never stopped long enough to try and figure out what that something was. There was just so many complications involved where Martouf was concerned. There had been.

She didn't hear Jack enter to the room. While she'd been excused from the summit, covered in blood and sedated as she was, Jack hadn't been half so lucky. It must have been hours since she'd watched him don his dress blues, squeezing her arm in a quiet promise he'd be back for her later. She wasn't sure she wanted to see him. He was part of the complication, part of the reason her insides were swirling inside of her and making her want to throw up.

His hand on her shoulder startled her. She grabbed it, anchoring her thumping heart to the feel of him, warm and strong and reliable. Jack would never go and do something so selfish as to die on her. She closed her eye again, her fingers seeking the pulse point in his wrist. Steady. With a deep breath, she willed her heartbeat to match his. Calm.

In. Out.

"Common, Carter." Jack's voice was soft, "Let's get out of here."

She didn't want to move. Wasn't even sure if she could. Surely if she tried to stand right now, she'd break apart. From grief and shock and the overwhelming question of _what were they going to do?_

Jack's hand was insistent against her shoulder. She shook her head wordlessly, squeezing his wrist in an attempt to communicate with him. _Please. Please let me stay._

"Sam." Insistent now. Her name against his lips twisted her heart, and she finally turned to look at him. He'd unbuttoned his jacket, his hat discarded long before he'd come looking for her. In the bright, unforgiving lights he looked tired and worn. She remembered that he, too, was wrapped up in the panic of their secret getting out.

"Okay." She didn't nod her head, because the nausea and her headache were still thrumming against her temples, but she clutched at him harder and allowed him to help her to her feet. She glanced once more at Martouf. Now the summit was over, the Tok'ra would take him back to their base. Anise would start her experiments on him – crack open his skull and scoop out his brain and –

She stopped herself, mid-thought. The vivid imagery wasn't helping with the nausea or her grief, and suddenly she wanted to be anywhere but here. She stumbled away from the cold corpse, tripping over Jack, who caught her against his chest. Automatically she went to pull away, to put the regulated distance between them, but Jack's hands were tight against her arms and he kept her in place.

"Easy." He murmured against her hair. She felt herself shiver against him, although from the shock or the feel of his fingers wrapped around her, she couldn't be sure, "We have to talk."

"Please Colonel." She begged him, although she wasn't entirely sure what she was asking for. More, or less? The feel of him was a comfort, a solid warmth against the chill of the morgue, but she was far too conflicted right now to allow it to continue. Just because they'd been forced to admit their less-than-regulation feelings, didn't mean she wanted to throw her career away. She didn't even know how he _really_ felt. 'A lot more than he was supposed to' could mean any number of things. And having any kind of conversation next to the dead man who had only hours ago professed to being fond of her seemed too macabre even for them.

Jack said something else, but she didn't hear him over the roar in her ears. It was pressing down against her skull and she let out a quiet 'oh' as she realised she was about to pass out.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

When Sam woke, it was in her own bed, clean and dressed and warm. She couldn't even begin to guess how she'd managed to get here. She heard movement behind the door to the bedroom, and she wondered if it had all been Jack, or if he'd had help. The thought of Jack undressing her made her blush, and she closed her eyes against the mess she was in. This conversation wasn't going to be fun for either of them.

She gingerly got out of bed, testing her legs against the soft carpet, giving her eyes a moment to adjust, but she seemed to be sound, the sedative gone from her system. The grief for Martouf was still there, but it felt abstract, the loss of a fellow solider, not the overwhelming grief of the death of a lover. Jolinar's memories had retreated once again into her subconscious. She was getting better at that.

She padded softly, but of course Jack heard her coming. Battle trained, always combat ready; and of course, she knew where she was concerned, he was always conscious of her. The coffee was already brewed, a steaming cup waiting for her on her kitchen bench. She murmured her thanks, wrapping suddenly chilly fingers against the warm mug as she sat down on the bar stool. She could feel her heart thrumming against her chest, nervousness and, she had to admit, fear, coursing through her veins.

What if he wanted to take it further?

_What if he didn't?_

The silence hung between them for an eternity, neither one sure on how to start, neither one sure of what exactly they wanted to say. Neither one sure what the other wanted.

Sam realised she'd have to start. Just like she'd jumped in directly after her Za'tarc test. Jack wasn't articulate at the best of times, and forcing him to broach the subject first was like expecting Daniel to grasp subtlety. Amusing, but not constructive.

"I don't want to leave it in the room."

She hadn't meant to say that. By the look on his face, Jack hadn't expected it either. They stood, gaping at each other in shock, and Sam suddenly found the inside of her mug to be incredibly interesting, She sipped, the boiling mixture scorching her tongue, but it was welcome as her brain went into overdrive, asking herself why, _why_ had she just blurted it out?

"Uh.." Jack stuttered in the usual manner when he was caught off guard.

Sam could have kicked herself. They had a good thing going right now... stolen looks, an arm squeeze that lingered a little longer than was strictly necessary, and long nights spent off-world in each other's company, sitting a little too close together, sharing stories and just existing together in that moment. It was more than she could hope for, considering their circumstances, and she certainly didn't want anything to change. And now maybe she'd blown it.

"I thought..." Jack was hesitant, then he swallowed, evidentially having collected his thoughts, "Listen Carter, we'd need to be damn careful. I've seen what happens to people who get caught… it's not pretty."

Sam swallowed the words she'd been about to say, and nearly choked on them, "What?"

"We'd need rules." Jack went on, oblivious to her confusion, "Nothing on the base… those cameras, they see everything."

"Colonel. Sir." Sam succeeded in a coherent word, finally. It was enough to stall Jack, who looked over at her expectantly, a small smile curving on the edge of his lips. Damn him, he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

"It's alright Carter." He told her gently, dismissing all of her concerns she hadn't been able to voice with a wave of his hand, "It's...sticky. But we'll make it work."

Sam swallowed, not really sure how she'd lost control of the conversation so completely. She wasn't even sure what they'd agreed on. Jack moved around the kitchen bench, until he was suddenly _right there_, his large frame filling her entire vision. She looked up into his eyes, strangely panicky and worried. Just what was going on? She didn't like being out of control.

Almost as if Jack sensed her discomfort, he lay a gentle hand against her cheek, "I'm not going to ask if you want this," He spoke softly, and his voice had turned husky. Apparently being in such close proximity was having the same effect on him as it was her, "because I already know the answer. Just in case _you_ don't know, I'm telling you now. I want you." His thumb stroked across her cheek bone, feather light, "And I figure I can't compromise my decision making while on the field anymore than I already do." His other hand came up to cup the other side of her face, holding her there, "But I gotta ask you. Do you want to risk your career and everything you've ever work for, just for me?"

Sam swallowed. _Did she?_ She didn't know. What she did know, right at that moment, is she wanted Jack to keep touching her. Her hands snaked out of their own accord, touching the curve of his muscle against his forearm, "This isn't exactly fair, sir…." A heartbeat, "Jack."

Jack chuckled, but didn't let go, "I know." One hand moved to stroke a strand of her hair, and she shivered as goosebumps spread down her arms. Damn him.

"Listen Sam..." his voice had gone serious again, "We can put it back in the room. We can forget this whole mess happened. I'll figure out something to tell Hammond. But I gotta warn you... if it gets out? Now, between you and me?" he dropped his voice and his head, so their foreheads were almost touching, "I'm not going to be able to stop. I won't want to."

She understood. Denying something you'd never had was relatively easy. Forgetting something that had actually happened was an entirely different ball game.

"Why is it so hard?" she barely whispered it, but he heard her. She felt more than saw him shrug, and he took a step back from her.

"It's easy, Carter." He turned away from her, and she realised he'd taken her indecision as an answer already, "It wasn't so bad... before. We'll figure it out."

"No. Wait. Jack, stop." Everything was moving so fast. Sam just wanted time to stop so she could sort out her feelings. Jack was a physical man... he acted on his emotions, he always had. She overthought every situation they were ever in. It was making this way harder than it needed to be.

The question wasn't did they want to? Of course they did. The attraction between them had been evident from early on. She wasn't sure exactly when they've both realised what was going on, but it had happened so gradually, so naturally they'd never had to have a conversation about it. But since it was out of the box now, so to speak, they were suddenly forced to make a conscious decision. Continue to lie to themselves and pretend like nothing was going on... or start lying to their friends and the government and start something that could get out of control very quickly. Or even blow up in their faces. The rational side of Sam's brain knew what the answer should be.

"Ah!" Jack's voice brought her out of her reverie, and she looked up startled, "You're over thinking it." He admonished her, and then he grinned again, "Me? Or not me?"

She laughed, taking another sip of her coffee. It really was that simple she supposed. There were problems, of course. So many of them. But they could over come them. Between her smarts and his inherent sneakiness, they could pull anything off, "What about Teal'c and Daniel?"

"You think they don't already know? Please Carter, they sleep less than three feet from us. They won't give us away."

She nodded absently. Him, or not him? The sudden empty feeling in her chest answered her question. There was no choice, really. It wasn't that she thought she was going to lose him if she didn't say yes... but once out of the box... nothing ever fit perfectly again.

She studied him a moment, savouring this last moment of _not_. Her body was already quivering with the anticipation of what was to come. Apparently it had made up it's mind ages ago. But at this moment she was still suspended in a bubble of _maybe_. A word, and it would shatter. It would be real. She'd never be able to ask 'what if' ever again.

"Never on the base." She agreed to his earlier condition, causing his lip to tweak upwards, "And never off-world, unless we _know_ Daniel and Teal'c are asleep."

"Teal'c never sleeps." He reminded her, taking a step towards her. His breath was already coming faster.

"Never in the bushes." She started to speak quicker, realising the window of negotiation was rapidly closing, "And no gloating to Teal'c and Daniel afterwards."

"Gloating?" he tried to sound affronted as he stopped in front of her again, blocked by her knees,

"I've been in the Air Force a long time, sir. I know how men talk."

His hands grasped the inside of her knees, and gently pulled them apart, "No more 'sir', when we're off base." He instructed, stepping closer still, "And you can't tell Fraiser."

Sam opened her mouth to protest, and he silenced her with a kiss, pressing his open mouth against hers. She breathed in the scent of him and gave up her argument as she kissed him hungrily, her arms snaking around his neck. God, he felt good.

After a moment he pulled away, his breath ragged and uneven, "Damn, Carter. Where did you learn to kiss like that?"

She didn't let go of him, merely smirked as her fingers continued to tangle themselves in his hair, "No stopping once you start."

Jack grunted something unintelligible against her mouth as she pulled him down to kiss her again, and she allowed her hands to roam more freely across his shoulders and back. She was really doing this. She knew it was wrong, but it felt so damn good right now she couldn't quite remember why she shouldn't be doing it. She'd wanted to touch him for so long now. Jack was clearly of the same line of thinking, his hands scorching her every where they touched. Insistent, unrestrained. If they weren't careful, this was going to be over far too quickly.

"Jack."

"Quiet Sam. Stop talking. We can talk later. All the time in the world for talk, afterwards." He pulled away from her, just a fraction, catching her eyes, "Last chance. Tell me quick... I don't have that much self-control and you feel incredible."

If she had any objections left, they were gone with his words. She nodded mutely, closing her eyes as she got swept up in the feel of him. There were problems of course, but they would get through it. It was always going to be him.


End file.
